


Eight Kisses, Between Breaths

by bboiseux



Series: Critical Role Campaign 1 [10]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Death, F/F, Old Age, Romance, Soft Kisses, Vexleth - Freeform, c1e115
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bboiseux/pseuds/bboiseux
Summary: Loss is inevitable.  The longer the life, the more inevitable the loss.  Each breath becomes a tick closer to that loss, until it is the ultimate loss.  Yet her time with Vax taught Keyleth that to live is to grasp at each breath, to hold it greedily, to savor it while you can.  Keyleth filled her life with experience.  She changed the world.  Then, one night, a casual kiss against Vex’s cheek reminds Keyleth of the dull ache in her chest.  It’s a feeling that Vex knows too immediately.  There will be eight kisses that lock in their memories, eight kisses to grasp at between breaths, eight kisses until the end.  A Vexleth fic about clutching to the things you love and learning when to let them go.Reading Time:abt 26 minutes.Status:Updating





	1. An Epitaph

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my long simmering Vexleth fic. Two important notes:
> 
> First, it starts off sad and ends sad, but there's lots of sweetness in between. This is a romance, but it is also about death and the loss of loved ones, so please keep that in mind.
> 
> Second, like [Practice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981234) this will update steadily, but slowly. I have yet to abandon a fic, so no worries there.

The fundamental truth of nature: death is the fertile earth from which all life springs.

This is easy to forget in the depths of winter, when the world is cloaked in thick snowfall and the smells of the world fall away, leaving only the essence of coldness.  It seems then that death will be an eternal slumber.

The night is worse.  The dark casts everything into shades of blacks and whites and grays.  The trees become dull stabs in the night, their branches horizontal slices.  No birds sing out in the dark.  No animals crunch over the snow.  After a snowfall, in the deepest night, the world is wrapped in its death shroud.

This is merely the blindness of memory.

If you stand still and let your body work, you can smell the sweat of the wolf and the fear of the rabbit under the freeze—low and layered, but there.  What seemed to be the crack of ice and the crash of a branch to a hard grave, is the heavy tread of a bear lumbering towards its home.  The world is alive, but it is waiting—waiting for the long sleep to end.  Beneath the snow, tiny sprouts rest in embryo form, protected and secure from the harsh winter.

Soon, the first warmth will come from the south and the snow and the floor of the world will turn into a muddy birthing bed.  Then the world will fill with the wild hymns to life.  The trees will trim their branches with finery.  The birds and animals will decorate their homes in fresh twigs and grass and flowers.  And new life will begin—from the ground, in the trees, in the sky—everywhere it can take hold.  New life will begin.  This new life will flourish and grow and live the life it is intended to live, whether small or large, beautiful or ugly.  It will live.

And then, when the spring is through, the fall will come again, and all this too will pass.  But in its time it feels like everything.

And it is everything.

And then it is nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Percy's funeral, Vex and Keyleth talk.

Keyleth arrived in her usual way, with an unnatural cracking and rending of tree bark.  She stepped out of the Sun Tree, head held high, even higher with the crown of antlers, and, with a gesture, the wound in the tree healed without any sign of passage.  She was expected and an honor guard, resplendent and glittering in Whitestone blue and white and purple, marched her through the streets. 

In Zephrah, this would have been a celebration, complete with air acrobatics and lively stories of the departed’s life.  In Emon, it would have been a state day of mourning, but also an opportunity for a parade and holiday.  Families would have clung to each other on this rare day together and the more mercenary would have filled every spare space with memorial wares for sale, like carrion birds around a freshly killed calf.

But this was Whitestone.  In seventy years, the buildings had grown tall and the streets had grown wide.  Where once there had been rutted cart tracks there were now carefully maintained cobblestones.  The smell of manure from the fields, once dominant, was now overwhelmed with the sharp sting of coal from the furnaces of the local workshops.  But this was still Whitestone.  So the buildings were adorned with black blunting, every window was covered, every shop sign obscured, and each door had a black bow wrapped around the door handle.  As she moved through the streets, Keyleth caught a glimpse of a few people—a women in a green dress peering from behind a black-curtained window, a child clutched back to his mother’s skirts as he tried to rush out to the guards—but mostly the streets were deserted.  This was a state funeral and everyone in Whitestone was in full mourning.  The streets were empty, but the temple of Pelor was a restless mass of people.

As the honor guard approached, Keyleth saw Vex’ahlia immediately.  Merely a small figure at this distance, her poise shouted above the dull hum of the crowd.  Where Keyleth held her head up to fight the natural urge to crawl away, to find momentum against the gaze of others, Vex’ahlia’s entire body rose up, a bulwark against any cruel words or judging glance.  On the temple floor, leading a line of De Rolos, surrounded by the entire population of Whitestone, she was still perfectly Vex’ahlia, never to be anyone else.

The crowd parted in silence as the honor guard marched and Keyleth was swept down towards the temple, towards Vex’ahlia—Vex.  In her mind, Keyleth always saw Vex the same way: raven-black hair woven in a braid, the smell of dried leathers and washed furs, hands busily fletching an arrow, children laughing and fighting around her.  Vex was always a calm center of a chaotic storm of her own making.  Drawing closer—pushed by the energy of the crowd towards the stage—Keyleth could see the strands of silver laced through Vex’s braid, the light crinkle at the corner of her eyes, and the laugh lines around her mouth.  She wasn’t laughing now and she smiled like someone who could only smile on the outside—thin and tightlipped.  No children played around her.  Instead, grown, they stretched out in a line to her left.

Keyleth’s step quickened, the name Vex rushing to her lips.  But Vex’s eyes caught Keyleth before the name could spill out and the word froze in her throat.

Vex’s tone and formality were as cold as the air.  Her eyes were tinged with red puffiness. “Voice of the Tempest, thank you for coming on such short notice.  Your presence honors us.  We hope you will grace Whitestone for these days of mourning.”

Keyleth swallowed her familiarity and ignored the twist in her chest. “Lady De Rolo, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Mistress of the Grey Hunt, I am sorry for your loss.  The Ashari people have lost a great ally.  I will do what I can to honor Lord De Rolo.”  It was a practiced way of speaking, one that helped her keep the violence of her emotions still beneath the surface.

Vex nodded and gestured to her right. “You know Cassandra.”

Time hadn’t changed Cassandra’s height.  Regally upright, in one of the well-tailored suits she had taken to wearing in the years after the emancipation of Whitestone, she still stood only up to Vex’s ears.   Time hadn’t worn her to a stoop and probably never would.  Keyleth appreciated the physical perfection that Cassandra must pursue to fight off the weight of time.  But her hair was completely white and her face carved with wrinkles.  The flesh could only fight so hard.

Cassandra smiled a small, melancholy smile, “Hello, Lady Keyleth.  I’m happy to see you again, even if the circumstances could be better.”

Keyleth clasped Cassandra’s hands, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not the tragedy it might have been.  A long life for both of us and . . .” She laughed under her breath and looked down the line of faces. “My brother and Vex’ahlia seem to have singlehandedly ensured eternity for the De Rolo name.”

As Keyleth handed out condolences with handshakes and bows, she considered the truth of Cassandra’s words.  Beginning with Elaina to Vex’s right—a woman of about seventy who showed her age in her eyes, but not her face—and continuing down the line to littlest Allura—who had just celebrated eighteen and seemed more interested in a brunette standing at the front of the crowd—there were eleven De Rolo children, every one of them betraying Percy and Vex in their face, movements, and voice.  And when she turned away, she was sailing a sea of De Rolos.  She tried to remember the last update she had received: eleven children, forty-five grandchildren, and twenty or twenty-one great grandchildren.  She thought those were the numbers.  Percy and Vex had found another way to defeat the Briarwoods and all they needed was each other.  Keyleth smiled.

She took the seat she was offered, a seat of honor with the family.  There were a few local family friends and respected merchants and townfolks—she didn’t recognize any of them—but it was mostly more shades of Percy and Vex.  She did recognize Pike and Scanlan and she embraced each of them in turn.  Pike hugged back, powerful and assured, and ended it with a caring pat on Keyleth’s shoulders.  Scanlan wiggled with discomfort, but his clowning was noticeably subdued.  They were all slower and more considered now.

The funeral itself was normal religious babble, wrapped in the pageantry that royals received by tradition, if not because they deserved it.  At least here it was heartfelt.  The people of Whitestone, filling the temple of Pelor, took joy in the grace of their god and the accomplishments of the De Rolos.  She had been here when Pelor’s light had broken through.  She had helped it break through.  She couldn’t begrudge them their belief.

Halfway through the ceremony (the priest was citing a passage from a book that Keyleth was only vaguely aware of), Keyleth realized that this was the remains of Vox Machina.  Vax, Grog, Tiberius, even Taryon were gone, some much sooner than others.  With Percy dead, the saviors of Whitestone were dwindling.  But, she nodded, as the priests of Pelor continued the last rites for the dead, that was right.  Percy would have liked the idea of living on as legend.  He preferred building something that lasted, something that could be carried in hands or in the mind, over putting his hope in a single fragile life.

Afterward, Keyleth paid her respects, but did not linger.  It had been years since she had last visited Whitestone.  She had known, from Vex’s letters, that Percy was not doing well, but Vex had assured her that there was no rush to visit, that there would always be more time.  Keyleth reflected bitterly on that thought as she looked down at Percy.  His hair was mostly gone—along the edges it had been carefully cut back—and his cheeks were drawn.  Despite the work that had been done, his skin still bore a slight sallow tone and the suit he wore was slightly too big.  The wreath of heliotropes, morning glories, and lilies resting on his chest covered the wasting, but Keyleth’s eyes were too trained not to see the signs.  Percy’s illness had not been sudden.

***

The De Rolo castle was alive with light, laughter, and libations.  Keyleth was certain it had never looked like this when Percy was a child.  The De Rolos he had described were always formal and distant.  Keyleth had often wondered if he was often glad just to get a nod of approval from his parents or, perhaps, just the absence of a disapproving look.  These De Rolos were loud and tactile.  There was a wrestling match going on in front of the fire, involving two children and a dog.   Three middle aged women and a man were gathered around a harpsichord singing, while two more women arm-wrestled on the closed top (which did nothing for the sound).  Even Cassandra seemed to have mellowed in her age, a glass of wine in one hand and a foil in the other, casually brushing away sword thrusts from two teenaged De Rolos.

They might have the De Rolo name, but these children and grandchildren were all Vex’ahlia.

Keyleth had been guided by a steward of the family through a whirlwind of introductions.  In a normal diplomatic situation, she would have committed the faces and names to memory, but the faces here were so similar that she knew it would take far more than a mere glance and an exchange of words to commit the De Rolos to memory.  Now, she was in a chair near the fire (and, as a result, a wrestling match), sipping warm mulled cider.  Her eyes scanned the flurry of activity, took in the mixture of voices.  A time or two she startled at a laugh that was very much Vex, only to see someone else with the same face.

Keyleth laughed and talked and reacquainted herself with the De Rolo family.  She passed some time with Cassandra and even more time with a teenage De Rolo named Ayla who at first seemed annoyed at the idea that Keyleth might be the same age as Gran (how Keyleth laughed at that) and then fascinated by the idea of elemental magic.  Later, she’d handed over her antler circlet to a crowd of children to play and explore with.  She could always find it later.

All that time, her eyes wandered for Vex, for the opportunity to catch her alone.  But that opportunity didn’t come.  Instead, she saw her only once.  Through a crowd—attired in armor, fur-lined cloak, bow slung over her back—Vex was in a heated argument with an old woman that Keyleth vaguely remembered as Vesper.  Keyleth rose and pressed through the room, but it was only to see Vex hurry away and out the front door.  Vesper turned with a familiar look of anger on her face, but her face softened when she saw Keyleth.  She apologized for her mother, but Keyleth waved it away and continued into the outdoors.  Vex had vanished in the darkness.

So Keyleth followed.  She felt a familiar anger simmering inside her.  The outrage she felt at every injustice she saw, every wrong.  And, like she always did, she swallowed it down.  Whatever was happening, it was not about her.  Whatever Vex was feeling, it was not about her.  This was about Vex and what she needed.  And Keyleth knew that Vex didn’t need to be alone, at least not yet.

The forests of Whitestone were thick and ancient, the canopy overhead blocking out any light.  But Keyleth had been in thicker, more ancient forests, forests that lived and breathed the dust of the earth, so she knew there was nothing to fear here.  Even in the pitch dark, she could see.  Even in the silence of night and winter, she could hear.  And, with changes, she could smell, which is what she needed now.

Keyleth’s body melted into itself, folding and stretching and expanding until there was nothing left of her original shape.  In her place stood a massive dire wolf, fur sleek and dense, muscles tensing for action.  Keyleth sniffed the air, rolling the color and taste of the forest around in her head.  In winter, the smells were packed down in the snow, but they were still there for those who understood.  Looking back at the castle, there was a vibrant path of odors, standing out in the night.  It was the smell of Vex: sour green from the leathers and furs, sweet purple from her soaps and perfumes, spicy yellow from magic, tangy red from the musk of a breeding female.  They were a secret world of sense that Keyleth shared with the animals.  She huffed into the air, making a heavy cloud of steam that punched the chill.

She ran the trail, jumping fallen trees and frozen streams with no hesitation, her muscles flowing like water beneath thick hide.  The trail, as she expected, was uneven, winding.  Unexpectedly, it went deep into the forest, farther than she would have thought Vex could have gotten.  Keyleth realized that Vex had run at full speed as soon as she left the party.  She was burning off her energy, wearing herself down.

She was up in a tree in the distance.

Keyleth slowed to a padding walk, almost stalking Vex’s position.  If Vex was on alert (which she always was), she had seen Keyleth coming.  Through the veil of darkness, Keyleth could just make out Vex pulling out her bow and readying an arrow.

Keyleth released the shape, the world melting into a new experience, the layer of smell evaporating into a world of brighter colors.  She stretched and walked forward.  Vex lowered the bow as Keyleth approached.

Vex landed effortlessly, standing tall under her heavy furs, every inch the proud animal she had always been.  Yet Keyleth couldn’t help but note the bags under Vex’s eyes and the slight give in her left leg as she stepped forward.

“Why are you here?”

It was the greeting Keyleth had expected, but the words still tore at her throat and she found her own words caught up in the wound.  “Vex.”  And the name froze in the air.

So Keyleth pushed across the gulf between them—the space of a few feet that felt like miles—and wrapped her arms around Vex, pulling her tight.  The furs were coarse against her bare arms and the leather armor unyielding against her body (creaking and straining with every movement), but most of all she drew close the rise and fall of Vex’s body beneath the layers, the soft rhythm of her breath.

For a moment, that was all.  Vex stayed painfully still, her arms limp at her sides, her eyes locked forward.  Every bit of distance that Keyleth had felt in Vex’s every word seemed trapped in that stiff, motionless body.  Vex seemed to scream, “You have no right to hold me this way.”  So Keyleth let go.

At least she meant to.  Instead, as she tried to pull away—in the instant before her muscles relaxed—Vex surrounded her, her arms pulling Keyleth closer, her hands moving beneath the cowl and clutching at her back, her face buried in Keyleth’s shoulder.  And she shuddered.  Her whole body quaked.  And she sobbed, the wetness hidden against Keyleth.  Keyleth pulled her closer, nestling Vex’s head in her neck, and wrapped the mantle around them.  The cold pushed in around them, but together they could reduce the cut of the winter to a gentle caress.  Vex, there in her arms, sent Keyleth’s mind back through the decades to the last time they had needed this, the last time grief over a loved one had pushed them together.  She drew Vex closer, pulling her entirely under the mantle, wrapping Vex in the only protection Keyleth could offer.

They lingered, Vex pouring her tears into Keyleth, Keyleth grasping on to this closeness, until, finally, Vex pulled away.  Her face was blotchy and wet and she wiped it clear on a fur.  Even in this state she was practical and understood that wet skin in this temperature could be dangerous.  She regarded Keyleth with puffy eyes and said, “I thought I was finished with tears.”

Keyleth pulled her close again.  “Shouldn’t we know by now that we’re never finished with tears?”

Vex grimaced, fighting against her body to smile.  “Oh, Keyleth.  Why do we keep losing people?”

“Because they don’t lose us.”  Keyleth had meant it to be sage wisdom, aloof, calm, but it exploded out as a sob and she felt the hot tears burn down her face.

Vex reached up and rested Keyleth’s head on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around the lanky torso and pulling the heat of her body close.  Stroking Keyleth’s hair, she absentmindedly tangled her fingers in the locks and kissed Keyleth lightly on the top of her head.

“I’m sorry, darling.  This moment is worse for me, but it’s all going to be worse for you isn’t it?”

Keyleth blinked back the tears and picked up her head.  “This isn’t about me.  I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

“Nonsense, darling.  We all get to mourn.”  Vex cupped Keyleth’s face and wiped away the tears, her own attempt at a smile dragged down by the weight of the tears she hadn’t cried yet.  “Grief isn’t selfish.”

Keyleth returned the gesture, brushing Vex’s cheek, taking away the remains of a tear.  “I think it can be very selfish.”

“Then let it be selfish.”  Vex dismissed it with a wave. “You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes.  Gods know I will be.”

“Now’s your time.”

Vex’s face flickered between smile and frown before she pulled Keyleth in for another hug.  It was short this time, but they lingered, enjoying the simple comfort of the press of another body.  When they parted, they walked, picking a path through the tall trees and snowy, gnarled forest floor.  They talked a little, but mostly passed the time in the silence of each other’s company, leaning on each other when they needed, walking their own path when the forest called for it.  As they parted to meet up on the other side of a deep stream valley, Keyleth watched Vex at a distance. She strode across the land with a regal tread, her confidence not dampened by the pain that burned inside her.  It was everything that made Keyleth admire Vex.  In some ways, it was the same thing that frightened Keyleth about Vex.  Keyleth had had to fight for every inch of her confidence.  Vex always seemed so effortless, a raging river to Keyleth’s trickling creek.

On the other side, where their paths converged, was a massive fallen tree, just turning to rot.  Vex bounded to the top of it, struggling at times, but never giving up.  She stretched out a hand to help Keyleth stand beside her.  They looked out together into the never ending floor of leaves and rocks and snow.  Vex squatted down and Keyleth sat beside her, her legs dangling over the edge of the tree, her fingers rubbing at the wood of her staff.  Everything felt better now.  It would be so easy just to let things be.  But Keyleth had learned long ago that letting things be was simply a way of avoiding responsibility.

“Vex, are you angry with me?  I mean, you don’t act angry with me now.  But you did.”  Keyleth cast her eyes over Vex’s downcast face and caught the flash of defiance ignite in a moment, then die down just as quickly.

“I’m not angry with you.”  Vex sat down and pulled the furs tighter around her shoulders.

They sat in silence, each staring out into the frozen darkness.

Keyleth sighed.  “Vex . . .” She reached over and pulled Vex’s hand close, squeezing it tight.  “Please.”  She didn’t mean it to be a plea, but it came out a strangled gasp.

“I’m not angry with you.  I’m angry about a lot of things right now, but I’m not angry with you.”  Vex had turned and seemed to be searching Keyleth’s face for something.  “How long has it been?  Since we saw each other.”

Keyleth response was immediate.  “Almost seventeen years.”

Vex laughed and shook her head.  “Seventeen?  It seemed like five.  When did time start passing so quickly?”  She took a long time to speak again, but Keyleth could tell the words were simmering in her belly, rising, pushing to come out.  When she finally spoke it was a slow sigh.

“Percy was sick for a long time.”  Vex nodded with each word, eyes down, as if reviewing a record in her mind.  “A long time.  By the time he passed, it was a relief.”  Her head swung sharply, locking eyes with Keyleth.  “I feel bad even saying that, but—“ The tears ran down her face. “—my Percy has been gone for so long, I just—“ Keyleth folded Vex into her body, letting her head rest on her shoulder.

“I noticed that . . . his death wasn’t sudden.”

“By the time he stopped eating, he’d been gone for years already.  His mind started slipping about ten years ago.  Little lapses here and there.  Forgetting dinner, little events, drawing blanks on names.  It wasn’t really anything.”  She smiled.  “Percy wouldn’t be Percy without getting too wrapped up in his little projects.”  Vex chewed at her lip.  “Then he forgot our anniversary.  Darling, you should have seen his face.  He was so confused and—

“I thought he would remember me to the end.  He stopped remembering the children years ago and when he remembered them he couldn’t recognize them.  But I thought he’d remember me.  And then one day he didn’t.  He did a few minutes later.  But I’d catch him staring at me from bed and I could tell he was trying to work out who I was.  I could see him going through the options in his mind and coming up empty.  Once he called me Vesper.”

Keyleth hugged Vex close.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I could have helped.”

Vex pulled back, shrugging Keyleth’s arm away.  “Really?  Please tell me how you could have helped,” she snapped, before taking a cooling breath, holding up a hand to stop Keyleth’s stuttered response.  “Keyleth, you couldn’t have helped.  Please, think about how much help I had here in Whitestone.  The children were more than enough, I promise.”

“I would have liked to help,” whispered Keyleth, eyes down.

“You would have only made it worse.”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.  “Worse? Vex, I—“

Vex’s voice cracked and shattered and the dam of tears broke with it, shuddering through her body.  “You look so young, Keyleth.”  Each syllable seemed to break Vex’s heart.  “He wouldn’t have understood.  He would have looked at you and then looked at me and—“ Vex turned sharply away, swallowing the jabbing pain.  “He wouldn’t have understood.  He wouldn’t have understood what happened to him.  And I couldn’t watch that.”

“Oh, Vex . . .”

“So I didn’t tell you.”  Vex threw the words into the air with pride, her chin held high, still stained with tears.  “I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t—I couldn’t watch that.  I was selfish.  It’s that simple.”

While Vex spoke, Keyleth had retreated, her shoulders collapsing downward, her back slumping.  Now, she pulled herself up and spoke with care and deliberation.  “I understand.  I’ve seen many people die that way.  Losing their hold on the world.  Losing their hold on themselves.”  She took a deep breath. “Every loved one has told me that they wish they could forget the end.  That they could remember only how they were before.”  Keyleth rested a hand on Vex’s hand.  “I know I’d feel that way if I’d seen him.”  She nodded. “I know.  I—I know.”

Vex reached over and tucked a stray hair back behind Keyleth’s ear.  “Are you angry with me?”

Keyleth sighed into the light touch of Vex’s fingers, her face screwing up as she shook off her thoughts. “No more angry than you are with me.  It’s that stupid kind of anger.  The anger you need, but know you don’t deserve.  I’m more angry with myself.  I could have come at any time, I just got caught up with my own life.”

“We all did, darling.”  Vex laughed bitterly.  “I guess that’s the downside of building your own life.  It becomes so full you don’t have time for anything else.  Good lord, look at all the children I had.  How did I even have time for myself?”

Keyleth smiled, her face draped with shadows of regrets passed.  “I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

Vex nodded.

“Vex?” whispered Keyleth.

“Yes, dear?”

“I have a daughter.”  Keyleth’s face burst into a wide grin, her eyes glancing at Vex for reassurance.

“What?” Vex oscillated between absolute joy, confusion, and anger before finally just giving in to the excitement.  She grabbed both of Keyleth’s hands.  “When?  How?  Keyleth, darling, tell me all about her. Now.”

Keyleth laughed a sob of joy.  “She’s almost seventeen.”

Vex shouted, “Seventeen?”

“As you said, we get caught up in our own lives and . . . well, it’s complicated.”  Keyleth ducked her head, but the smile stayed fixed in place, her cheeks a vibrant pink.  “Her name is Koreen.”

Something about this confession broke the wall Vex and Keyleth had built up and everything came pouring out.  They talked through the night, sharing stories from the past seventeen years, then stories from even further back that they had never thought to tell each other or they had simply forgotten.  As the night wore on, they snuggled on the tree, keeping themselves warm and sharing the moment while it lasted.  They laughed, their voices bouncing back from the largest trees or disappearing into the depths of the forest.  And they cried, each taking their turn to comfort the other, to hug tight and dry tears.

When the weak light of sunrise filtered through the canopy above, they knew it was time to head back.  Vex slid off the tree and guided Keyleth down, their fingers interwoven.  Falling with a jolt, Keyleth steadied herself on Vex’s shoulder.  She looked up with a flushed look.  “Seventy years hasn’t solved the clumsiness.”

Vex smiled kindly.  “Would you be you without a little clumsiness?”

Keyleth pulled herself up to her full height and looked around.  “I suppose it’s time to head back.  Your children are probably looking for you.”

Vex laughed and Keyleth glowed inside at the sound.  “They’re used to me disappearing into the wilderness.  I think they grew up believing it was my job.”  Vex looked longingly at the forest.  “I need to stay out here for a few days.  I can’t mourn properly back there at the castle.  I need this.”  She gestured widely at the forest expanse.  “Percy would understand.”

Keyleth nodded.  “What should I say?”

“Tell them I’m out here.  Tell Elaina or Joanna or Freddie—really any De Rolo with gray hair will do.”  Vex brought up a finger and fixed it pointedly at Keyleth. “And if Vesper has a problem with it, tell her she can come out here and find me.”  That brought a broad smile to Keyleth’s face.

“Okay.”  Keyleth started to turn, but stopped herself and brought her hand gently to Vex’s cheek.  “I love you, Vex.  We all do.”

“I love you too, darling.  Don’t worry.  I’ll never be alone.  Percy and I worked very hard at a cure for loneliness.”

Keyleth leaned in and kissed Vex lightly on the cheek, her thumb brushing the other cheek.  “Please come in from the wilderness before I leave.  We shouldn’t let seventeen more years go by.”  She turned and walked into the dawn light.

Vex watched her go, her hand touching her cheek and feeling the lingering heat Keyleth’s lips had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Time:** Zephrah, Keyleth's daughter, and the second kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I am also [bboiseux on tumblr](https://bboiseux.tumblr.com/).
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>   * **Note:** If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with _whisper_. I will still appreciate the comment, but not respond. :)
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